At last the wolves gained the summit. There, glinting in the
silvery moonlight, stood the Glass House. At that moment,
the clouds parted, allowing the waxing moon to illuminate
the house in full. The moonbeams falling on its panes turned
the glass opaque, reflecting all secrets back on the beholder.
She Wolf could make out a vaulted doorway at the top of a
rain-slicked stone staircase. Father Wolf, being like most
wolves a ‘doer’ and not a ‘thinker’, raced towards the
entrance. Above, the birds chirped out their warnings.
Chapter 11 by Tale to Tell
Louis Rossi & Bertie Telezynski